


Lovers

by fredsghost



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Almost Kiss, F/M, Fluff, Height Differences, Post-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, wearing each others clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:21:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredsghost/pseuds/fredsghost
Summary: “He’s a prat, is what I’m trying to say.”You laughed, measuring out three cups of flour for cookies. “I’m aware.”“Hey!” George protested.
Relationships: George Weasley/Reader, George Weasley/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 83





	Lovers

“George, hon?” You called from the kitchen of the Burrow, on your tip-toes trying to reach the flour that was on the highest shelf. Almost instantly, you felt a presence towering just behind you. You startled and dropped to your heels, tilting your head up to face your incredibly tall boyfriend.

“Calm down, love. ‘S only me.” George chuckled as he pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead and grabbed the flour effortlessly at the same time. You wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your head into the crook of his neck.

“Missed you.” You muttered into his sweater.

“I was only gone for a few hours,” he smirked, arms wrapping around you.

You leaned back, pursing your lips, worry evident in your eyes. You gently touched the bandage wrapped around his head to prevent his ear, or lack thereof, from bleeding and to encourage healing. George winced a little as it was still a little sore. You immediately pulled away.

“Yeah, and those few hours made a lot of difference.”

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” He stretched out his arms as if to say ‘here I am’. You rolled your eyes, ducking under and moving to the other counter where Fred was leaned against, blowing the steam off his mug of coffee. You didn’t even hear him come in.

“Did you know,” Fred started, taking a sip from his drink. “That George was all the way across the house when you called for him? Honestly (Y/N), I was on the way to help you when the git pushed me to get to you.”

He said all this in a single tone, eyes trained on his coffee mug until they flicked up to you. “He’s a prat, is what I’m trying to say.”

You laughed, measuring out three cups of flour for cookies. “I’m aware.”

“Hey!” George protested.

“Also, I’m curious,” Fred continued, placing his mug down, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are you wearing shorts under that top or are you just in your underwear?”

You floundered, dropping the measuring cup into the bowl. You practically blushed to the tips of your toes when George surged forward and slapped his twin upside the head.

“Get out, Fred! You perverted twat!” George pushed Fred out of the kitchen, who was howling with laughter.

“Mum! Georgie’s hit me! He’s hit me!” Fred chortled all the way up the stairs, when Molly distantly called.

“George! Stop bullying your brother!”

George sputtered as Fred’s laughter increased, heard loud and clear all the way from the second landing. He turned to you, his turn to blush as red as his hair.

You pouted at him and opened your arms, inviting him for a hug. He happily obliged and easily picked you up from around the waist. He pinched your butt then, eyes crinkling as he smiled widely at you.

“What possessed you to wear my favorite sweater, _hmm_?“

“Because I’m your favorite girl…?”

He hummed in agreement. “That, you are.”

Before he could do or say anything else, you booped his nose with your own. “Don’t think I don’t know that you’re wearing _my_ favorite sweater, George Weasley.”

He paused, looking away bashfully. “…It smells like you.”

“Merlin, I love you.” You whispered, finger tracing down the side of his face.

“Not as much as I love you, I bet.” He gently putting you down, one hand moving inside your— _his_ — sweater to rest against your bare hip, the other tilting your chin up. He leaned down as you stood on your tip-toes once more to better reach his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“I will admit that something possessed _me_ when I first saw you in my clothes,” he breathed, eyes looking over every detail of your face. He committed every mole, every freckle to memory as his eyes fluttered closed. 

Before you followed his lead, you regarded the love of your life with wide eyes, watching as the sunlight from the open window hit him just right, framing him in an almost ethereal glow. As your lips were about to touch, you closed your eyes and anticipated the taste of his lips when a loud _bang!_ ricocheted throughout the kitchen.

You and George’s eyes snapped open simultaneously and, keeping the same position, glared over to where Fred was back leaning against his original position against the counter, stuffing a firework into his back pocket. He teasingly tipped an invisible cap at the couple, winking.

“Mum! Georgie and (Y/N)’s doing the dirty in the kitchen again! _Mum_!” Fred grinned widely, picking up his now warm coffee that he’d left behind. He whistled a tune as he walked out of the kitchen of his own accord, this time exiting through the back door.

George looked back at you, stroking your chin from where his hand never left. “You’re going to have to break me out of Azkaban once I murder the bloody bastard.”

You clicked your tongue, playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. “’Fraid I won’t be able to.”

“Why not?” He raised an eyebrow.

“’Cause I’ll be right there in the cell next to you for being an accessory to the very same murder.”

He smiled widely, pecking you on the lips before stepping away, moving to take the spot where Fred previously was. You frowned at the distance. He gestured at the bowl of flour behind you.

“Go on, those cookies won’t make themselves, you know.” George said fondly. “I’ll be right here should you need me to reach a high shelf again.”


End file.
